When Gingerbread Men Go Out to Play
by Aliada
Summary: Kili is overly fond of dough, and Fili suffers the consequences. (written for the GatheringFiKi 12 Days of Christmas (2019) event)


_**A/N**__: Modern AU. _

This year, snowfall defied all expectations. It wasn't just non-stop, it was furious in its consistency. Neither Kili nor Fili had ever remembered seeing anything like it. At one point, they were snowed in. After plenty of cursing and hard work, the way out was found, but it didn't remain untouched for long. Snow was just as thorough as it was relentless. Kili found poetry in that, but Fili just found that tiring and irritating. He was particularly irritated by the fact that this weather would prevent Kili from trying his new almost-ready surprise sled. But since Kili couldn't know anything about it, he had to hide that part of his irritation. Thankfully, it was substituted easily enough by general irritation, which was eventually shared by Kili, despite all his initial enthusiasm.

Kili painted, Fili crafted, it was the way of things, and it was also a mutually beneficial combination of efforts. The only problem (aside from the snowpocalypse) was that not one of them was particularly good at cooking, and Christmas, at least its traditional version, required some sustenance. Baking, however, was a different matter entirely. For some unfathomable reason, Kili adored dough in all its forms, and sometimes it led them into some unexpected places which weren't exactly easy to get out of. At least, it was Fili's take on it. Kili, on the other hand, would say that his infatuation was perfectly innocent and nothing to be concerned about. Or, rather, he _had _been saying that until one Christmas Eve proved him wrong. The whole incident was made even more miraculous by the fact that being proven right brought Fili no satisfaction whatsoever.

Kili thought he'd screamed, but he wasn't entirely sure. But whatever he did (or more likely _didn't_ do), Fili was instantly at his side, grabbing him by the hand and checking the kitchen for any visible threats. None of those threats were big enough to be instantly visible, so Fili made the mistake of nearly breathing a sigh of relief and turning his attention to a still-startled Kili who was now gesturing wildly in the direction of the counter.

Fili frowned at him but yielded. Still, he struggled to recognize anything else rather than a mess of bottles, dirty dishes, and chaotic hills of flour. That is, until that 'something' jumped down and started moving towards them in a slightly stifled but surprisingly determined manner. If they had a kitten, Fili wouldn't be particularly concerned, but the problem was that they didn't, not that he was aware of, at least. Which also meant that Kili had a lot of explaining to do. Instead of explaining, Kili froze and his eyes widened further.

Finally, Fili released the sigh he'd been holding, but it wasn't a sigh of relief.

The thing was grinning widely, as if happy to see them, and it'd have been fine if it actually had a face to grin with. Well, it had a mouth, he had to give it that much, and it had three buttons on what was supposed to be its… coat? Yes, Kili definitely had a lot of explaining to do.

The thought was almost comforting, as it was able to successfully distract Fili from the realization that they had a very energetic, and a very _alive_, gingerbread man bouncing around their kitchen floor. Or… Fili felt his eyes widen as the Cheshire-like one was joined by two more, all in different stages of un-preparation. One of them only had eyes (thankfully, supplied with eyebrows), and it was being led, quite carefully (and kind of mournfully) by the grinning one. The third one, with a screaming red bowtie and a bag in his hand, tagged miserably after them. Apparently, in the gingerbread men world not having a smile pretty much equaled being blind or limbless in the real world. Fili felt a shiver run down his spine. That was disturbing. Kili fidgeted uncertainly beside him.

Fili grabbed him by the hand and pushed them both out of the room, hastily closing the door behind them. The merry gathering seemed unruffled by their presence, but still it was better to be one the safe side (or at least a _safer _side). Also, they had to be sane for this conversation.

Kili's eyes were slightly unfocused, as if he was still replaying the scene in his mind. Fili cleared his throat.

"So, do you…"

"Do I_ look_ like I know?"

Kili fired him a suddenly focused look and rubbed his temples, as if trying to get rid of the sight. Fili felt like doing the same.

"Alright. Let's go with what you do know. How many more are there and why _on earth_ did you have to make them so… disturbing?"

Kili's eyebrows shot up.

"_Disturbing?_ Thank you very much. How would you like it if I said that about some of your stuff?"

"I wouldn't. Because you won't. I only create beautiful things."

Kili snorted at him, but didn't argue, and Fili felt a terribly untimely surge of satisfaction. No, he couldn't afford being flattered. Not when a gingerbread men army was invading their home.

"And?"

Kili ran his hand through his hair, suddenly looking dejected.

"Look, I really have no idea. I've only made these three, and they were coming along just fine."

"Yes, I could see that," Fili said.

Kili scowled at him.

"They _were_, they are simply not finished. You don't judge an unfinished work of art, do you?"

Instead of answering, Fili just stared at him for a few moments. His question was obvious enough, and Kili was just being stubborn.

With an even more dejected sigh, his brother murmured something barely comprehensible. Flli had a more or less clear idea as to what it was, but he was feeling rather vengeful at the moment.

"I'm sorry?"

"I just wanted to experiment, okay? Finishing them one by one was… boring. So I needed to kind of put things into perspective."

That summed it up quite nicely, Fili thought. Still, there had to be more.

"Also, you saw that the first one was lonely and decided to make him some friends, didn't you?"

For a moment, Kili looked like he wanted to argue, but the amusement won over and he chuckled instead. Fili bit his lip in an attempt not to follow. They were supposed to be having a serious conversation.

That was such a Kili thing to do, though. Fili couldn't resist a little fond nudge.

"And I hoped to have some _edible_ cookies by the end of the evening."

Kili huffed at him, his expression caught between scowling and laughing.

"If I remember correctly, you had no trouble eating my chocolate castle last year."

That one was rather unfortunate, Fili had to admit. Fortunately, though, Kili never learned that the ruins that followed three hours of painstaking building were brought upon not so much by Fili's sudden hunger but by the ultimately tragic sitting arrangement. In one moment, the castle was squashed with no hope of ever restoring its initial shape. It was mostly a panic-fueled decision, but even in retrospect eating the thing seemed somehow less offensive than using it as a chair. As a result, Fili endured a lot of sulking and 'it's fine' pretense, but Kili brightened quickly enough when Fili offered his help with the next project.

"Anyway, none of your previous sweets came to life. These ones did."

Suddenly, Fili interrupted himself in mid-thought, something clicking in his mind. Kili had _never _made animate things. Mostly, It'd been houses, castles, various Christmas accessories. Hypothetically, these could come alive as well, it was no less crazy than walking gingerbread men, but even madness had its rules, apparently.

"So, do you think they are like this because I made them _friends_?"

Fili nodded. It was still crazy, but it was a probable kind of crazy, at the very least.

"Now, all we have to do is go there and…"

"What?" Kili asked cautiously, his voice falling to a whisper.

"Well, take them out. Or at least, take the two of them out and leave one."

Kili gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean 'take them out'? Do you want me to… _kill _them?"

Fili objected to the use of the word 'kill' being applied to cookies, but that wasn't the point.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. Or do you propose that we never use the kitchen again?"

Kili looked at him as if he was insane.

"I'm _not_ doing that, Fee!" Before Fili could suggest an alternative, Kili hastened to add, "And you are not doing that either!"

Fili groaned and rested his forehead on the wall. He should've predicted that. Kili was ridiculously protective of his baking.

"And what if they are… I don't know, _evil_? What if they try to harm you?"

Kili's eyes lit up at the suggestion, and Fili let out one more groan. This time, internally.

"Or they could be Christmas spirits! Wouldn't that be cool?"

Fili had to admit that it would be, but he still had no desire to deal with that now, or ever.

"If they are spirits, we can just cast them out," he said.

"It's freezing out there, in case you've forgotten."

"No, I didn't. That's kind of the point."

Kili gave him a suddenly hurt look, and Fili's suspicions were confirmed once and for all: he wasn't going to win that battle.

When they re-entered the kitchen, armed with pretty much nothing but brooms (Kili's idea), the magical men re-arranged themselves. The bow-tie one was leading the smile-less one, and the smiling one was running around them in a strange resemblance of a dance.

Kili giggled.

"Isn't that adorable?"

Suddenly, a new idea popped into Fili's mind.

"Listen, what if we just put them on the sled I made and maybe they will just magically disappear into the air?"

Kili frowned, but then, having caught the first part of the sentence, looked at him questioningly, the hint of admiration and gratitude already pushing through.

Fili felt the corners of his lips go up.

"Yes, I wanted it to be a surprise, but… well,"

Kili's almost-smile changed into the expression of regret.

"But I can't give you anything. This is obviously ruined and I won't have time to prepare anything else."

Fili didn't tell him he didn't need anything else. Instead, he wrapped his brother in a hug and whispered, "Maybe you are right. Maybe it is indeed a Christmas miracle. And what better present can there be?"

Kili answered by chuckling into his shoulder.

Kili didn't really believe that there will be any more miracles. He was just glad that Fili abandoned the idea of 'dangerous magical men' and left the men to their business. The whole thing was ridiculous, but also endearing, and he couldn't resist being just a little bit proud of the tirelessly changing spectacle in front of his eyes. That was rather advanced for the amateur -made sweets.

Logically speaking, no thing should've surprised him more, but he was still stunned and a little dismayed when the men disappeared just right before it hit midnight. Apparently, it was enough magic for one day. Before he could really feel the loss, Fili's gasp made him jump and hurry to the front door. Which was wide open. Half-expecting to be thrown off his feet by the wind, Kili made a desperate closing motion, but the next thing he saw made his hand fall lifelessly against his side.

There was no more snow storm. No wind and no cold. It was almost warm, but not as much as to be hot. Sparkling lights were covering the sky in a baffling but enthralling pattern. All of that could've been more or less explainable, but then Kili's eyes fell on yet another thing.

It was a sleigh. And a horse. A real living horse.

For a few seconds, Kili was scared to breathe. Looking at Fili steadied him a bit, though. It wasn't that Fili looked confident. He looked just as confused as Kili felt, but there was still consolation in the similarity. Going crazy alone was an ungrateful business. With Fili, it could be fun.

"What is that?" Kili asked, not really expecting an answer.

"It was my sled," Fili murmured, almost with regret.

Kili could understand his feelings. Dancing gingerbread men were very entertaining, but they also stopped being _his_ men in the literal sense of the word, and that was just a little bit disappointing.

"On the bright side, they did like your idea of a ride, after all. Even if they never said so," he teased lightly, trying to gauge Fili's real mood.

"Talking cookies? I got enough of a headache from the dancing ones."

Kili thought about this. He supposed it was the time to make a list for the next Christmas. Maybe he'd be able to make them talk next time… A change in the recipe could be enough. Best not mention that to Fili, though.

Fili, now perfectly composed, turned to him with a smile.

"Fancy a ride?"

Kili nodded, feeling bursts of happiness go off inside him.

As far as Christmas miracles went, this one was very much to his liking.


End file.
